


Just Say It

by jargoc



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Exy au, M/M, Rivals With Benefits, Slow Burn, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-09 00:01:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10399140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jargoc/pseuds/jargoc
Summary: Keith joins the Altean Lions for Shiro but slowly realizes that sometimes it feels good to let your guard down and let people in.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you clicked this fic, you either know what Exy is, or you're curious!
> 
> For those of you who don't know what exy is, it's a made up sport described as a bastard sport. It is basically lacrosse with the violence of hockey and they play in a court that is surrounded on all sides by plexiglass. 
> 
> If you want to know more about it here is the wiki: http://foxhole-court.wikia.com/wiki/Exy
> 
> I love love love the All For The Game series, and I think exy is a cool sport/concept so I really wanted to throw Keith and Lance into it. It was supposed to be a 20k exercise and it got wildly out of control. 
> 
> I have plans on updating every month or so, and I already have the next 4 chapters written but I wanted to post this because I have been sitting on it too long and I need some encouragement to be honest haha
> 
> Some real notes about this first chapter:
> 
> This is not a sheith fic, but Keith does have a crush on his foster brother Shiro. It's completely one sided, but if even reading something like that isn't your thing, I don't think this fic is for you.
> 
> As I write I might add some more chapters, and add more specific tags for each chapter (if they allow me to)
> 
> ANYWAY~ I hope you guys like it! Comments would defffff be helpful and a big plus, so let me know what you think!

Keith Kogane’s first day at Altea University was bound to be a fucking disaster. The press had been on his ass since he turned down the Empire Galrans and they weren’t bound to stop now. He didn’t know how many more times he could grit out “no comment” before he lost his damn mind. He hated the press. He hated their cameras, and answering their stupid questions, the only thing he wanted to do was play exy with Shiro. He didn’t care about the fame or the money if he could just have exy and Shiro, he would be content. He supposed he could say that to the press but it was none of their damn business, and when you gave an inch, they always took a mile.

Always.

Shiro said he would meet him at the airport, which honestly was a relief. He was always a bit calmer when Shiro was at his side. Keith Kogane, Red card Kogane, is what they called him. Known for his extraordinary speed and maneuvers and getting almost kicked out of every game with a red card. He had gotten better—his coach threatened to kick him off the team if he didn’t—but Keith was born with a short fuse, and being on the exy court was a lot like playing with fire.

He met Shiro with a sea of flashing cameras surrounding them. Shiro smiled and Keith bit back a grin when the older boy wrapped his arms around him in a warm embrace. Keith pressed his face into Shiro’s chest and let himself have this one moment of weakness. He had promised himself that he would get over this whole… thing he had for Shiro when he decided to come to Altea. They were practically brothers, and that’s all Shiro would ever see him as, his little foster brother. Keith would have to get used to that. That was what he was, it was stupid to hope for anything more—wrong even. So he only allowed himself this: a deep breath of Shiro’s pine scented detergent and sharp cologne, then he pushed away, grin still firm in place.

Shiro gave him a fond smile and patted him on the shoulders, “Good to have you back.”

It had been three years since Keith got to play on Shiro’s team… Keith really wished the cameras weren’t flashing all around them, “Good to be back.”

“Shiro! Shiro!” one of the reporters said finally pushing into their personal space. Keith turned to snarl but Shiro was quicker, easily stepping between him and the reporter. “This will be the first time in a long while that you and Keith will be on the court together again, and most of your team are freshman. What are your predictions for this season?”

Shiro smiled easily and Keith had to look away. It was going to be hard to let his crush on Shiro go if he stared at Shiro every time he smiled. He made a small surprised noise when Shiro wrapped his arm around him and grinned into the camera, “I think that with Keith and all of the other new freshmen will take us to nationals, they were hand-picked for the job.”

The press went wild at that. Their questions came sounded like a jumbled mess of noise, but Shiro picked each one out and answered accordingly. The press was relentless, and although Shiro was patient, irritation was starting to itch under Keith’s skin and he could feel the familiar acidic heat start to build up in his chest. If these reporters didn’t leave them alone…

“Keith!” one yelled, shoving a microphone in his face, the heat burned at his throat now. He must be new, he didn’t know what happened to reporters who shoved things in Keith’s face.

Shiro stepped in yet again before Keith could twist this dude’s arm behind his back. He gently pushed the microphone from Keith’s lips and smiled politely, though there was a protective edge to it that had Keith’s heart racing. “No more questions for today,” Shiro said, being picture fucking perfect. “I’m sure Keith here is tired from being on a plane all day, we’d like to get settled and rest.”

Shiro grabbed his suitcase and waved at the reporters who seemed to part like the red sea when Shiro walked between them. It was funny to watch if Keith was being honest. Shiro always had this air of authority and leader skill that everyone just listened to, rabid press included.

When they were out of earshot Shiro nudged Keith, a grin spreading across his face and making Keith’s heart flutter. His eyebrows furrowed and he glared, though he was sure there was no heat in his eyes, “What?” he demanded, reaching to grab his suitcase from Shiro’s hands.

“Nothing,” Shiro laughed, and moved the suitcase from Keith’s reach, “Can’t I just be excited to see my little brother? We’re gonna be on the same team again! Stronger than ever this time.”

A heavy stone settled in Keith's stomach but he smiled, it was hard not to when Shiro was happy like this.

* 

When Shiro got into his accident it was rare to see him have a genuine smile. Keith and Mr. Shirogane rushed to see him at the hospital where he was being kept, and Shiro didn’t look anything like the boy who had graduated years earlier. Shiro was always strong and brave and a light to anyone who was around him, a natural born leader, in life and on the court, but the boy that laid in that hospital bed looked half dead. The circles under Shiro’s eyes were dark and prominent, and his arm was completely bandaged up and immovable. When doctors asked Shiro what happened Shiro always had the same answer: I don’t remember.

They said it was a car accident, that only something that traumatic could have caused this much damage to his arm and caused this much mental damage but Keith didn’t believe it. It was all shady and every time Keith asked for answers he was met with a big ‘need to know’ basis sort of excuse. Keith tried to bring it up with Shiro in private, tried to ask him what happened, maybe see if Shiro would tell him something new but it was the same tired and scared look accompanied by the same thing. He didn’t remember, he didn’t want to remember.

He had nightmares, Keith knew that much. In the middle of the night Keith would hear him screaming but whenever Keith asked him about the dreams Shiro would always smile and say “It was just a nightmare.” Keith hated it. Keith hated his fake smiles, and his fake optimism, he hated all of it, he just wanted Shiro to be honest.

The worst part of it all was the small seed of hope in Keith’s gut. The part of him who believed in all of Shiro’s optimism. The doctors told Shiro he might not ever be able to play exy again, but Shiro kept telling Keith it was going to be okay. It wasn’t going to be okay. How could it be okay? Shiro was broken, and every ‘I’m fine’ and ‘It’ll be okay’ only added to the tight knot of anger twisting tighter and tighter between his ribs. Keith channeled all of his anger into his playing and got kicked out of mostly every single game that season, but Shiro said it was going to be okay… Keith hoped it would be.

Then one day Keith came home from practice and Allura and Coran from the Altean Lions were at their dinner table talking to Shiro about joining their team. Keith was kicked out before he could eavesdrop any more information but whatever they said must have convinced Shiro because he was gone by the end of the week.

That was the last time Keith had seen Shiro. He spent every semester and vacation at school. He sent Keith updates, bragging about the amazing physical therapy program Allura had him in, telling Keith that his game was getting better and that he could play almost as well as he used to be able to. He told Keith all about his recruiting effort, and Keith was happy for him. As happy as you could be when you missed someone so much you could die.

Now here they were, and Shiro looked happy and Keith couldn’t help but be infected by it. Even if they only had one year of playing together, Keith was ready to make the year count.

“Yeah,” Keith answered back, shoving Shiro back with a grin on his face, “Stronger than ever.”

 *

The press met them at the school too, but thankfully school security kept most of them at bay. Their questions melted into just a blur of noise as they walked onto campus and into the gate locked dorms. Keith had one suitcase full of belongings, so Shiro helped him up to his room and when they got through the doors he plopped Keith’s suitcase onto the lower bunk. He would have taken the solo bed on the opposite side of the room but it looked like someone had already set up their stuff there.

“I can’t believe you only have one suitcase of stuff,” Shiro laughed with a shake of his head.

Keith shrugged his shoulders, “What else do I really need? I have practice clothes and I have my toothbrush.”

Shiro laughed again, “Always such a minimalist, only take what you need to survive. What about going out clothes? What about stuff to do for fun?”

“Exy’s fun enough, I’m not going to have time to ‘go out’,” Keith said, his voice completely serious.

Shiro shook his head again and clapped down on Keith’s shoulder, “It really is good to have you back.”

Keith’s lips turned up in a soft ghost of a smile, a warm stirring in his gut and turned to Shiro, “Yeah..” Shiro started unzipping his suitcase, and commented on how Keith really only did pack workout clothes, but Keith could barely hear him over the pounding of his own heart. This would be the perfect time to say something, anything, just get it out in the opening and be done with it. He could get rejected and Keith could just move on. All he had to do was open his mouth and say it. Just say: Hey, I know you see me as a little brother, but I think I’m in love with you? It would be easy… so why couldn’t he do it?

Fear bubbled in his throat and he swallowed it. He was Red card Kogane for fuck's sake, the feared striker who showed no mercy on the court, how could he not do this? Keith steeled his nerves and clenched his fists, “Shiro,” he said, his voice cracking a little.

Shiro immediately stopped whatever he was saying to look up at Keith, a concerned look etched onto his face when he saw Keith’s expression, “Yeah?” he said, straightening his spine, “What is it, Keith?”

Keith’s fingers curled into fists and he pushed his arms to his sides, just say it.

“I—”

“Helloooooo, Altean University!” A voice boomed from the lounge next to them, accompanied by a loud bang. Keith jumped and turned quickly toward the noise and met its source. A brown-skinned boy with short cropped hair and bags stacked up to his chin strolled into the room with a huge toothy grin plastered on his face. “The Tailor has arrived to save the day!”

Keith felt irritation crawling up his spine like a sharp itch and he grit his teeth. Keith didn’t know who this kid was, but he already hated how loud he was. Who needed to yell the second they entered a room? He hadn’t spotted Keith and Shiro yet, but Keith felt Shiro stand and take a step forward.

“Uh, Lance, buddy?” came another voice from the front door, “A little help?”

The guy, Lance, whipped his head around, still completely oblivious to Shiro and him and blindly walked into the bedroom, “Yeah, yeah sorry, I’ll just put my stuff—” Lance turned to face them finally and jumped so high that Keith jumped too. “Holy shit!” he screamed, his stuff falling around him.

Shiro rushed forward to help Lance pick up his stuff, because of course he did, and Keith felt obligated to follow. He bent down to help grab some of Lance’s bags and Lance stared down at them jaw slack, “You guys scared the shit out of me, you should have said something,” Lance said, huge grin returning back to his face, “Lance Mclain, better known as The Tailor, or exy’s best sharpshooter, either name is fine,” he said, reaching his hand out to shake Keith’s hand.

Keith returned the greeting with a deadpanned stare, hands conveniently occupied with Lance’s bags. He cocked an eyebrow at him, “Who?”

Lance deflated and opened his mouth to say something but the other person walked in, a big burly dark skinned man with a kind looking smile, “Oh Shiro’s here,” he said, plopping an obscene amount of bags to the floor.

“Hey! Careful with those!” Lance complained but Hunk ignored him.

“Hey Hunk,” Shiro smiled, and gave Keith a loud clap on the shoulder, “This is Keith, he’s a freshman this year and our starting striker. Keith, this is Hunk, one of the amazing backliners defending our goal.”

Hunk laughed, “Come on dude, even I know about Red card Kogane, welcome to the team, bud.”

Keith bristled at the nickname but nodded anyway, “Yeah thanks.”

“And I’ll be your fellow striker,” Lance said, tossing his bag onto his top bunk. He looked back at Keith and winked, “But don’t worry, I’ll try not to steal all your spotlight.”

Yeah, Keith did not like him.

 *

It didn’t take long for Keith to unpack his bag, especially with Shiro helping him. All he had was this one bag, verses Lance’s eight or so. When it was done Shiro left him to bond with his new teammates and Keith had to bite back a grunt of frustration.

“Don’t kill Lance,” Shiro said with a quiet laugh when Keith walked him to the front door. Keith forgot how easily Shiro could read him. “We need him for the season, okay? Remember, patience yields focus.”

Keith sighed, with a roll of his eyes, “Yeah, okay.”

Shiro reached out and ruffled his hair, “Oh yeah, what were you trying to tell me earlier?”

Keith’s heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. He still had a chance, he could say it right now, but the courage that he had somehow built up before was nowhere to be found at the moment. “Nothing,” he said instead, “I don’t even really remember, honestly,” he lied with a shrug.

“Oh, okay,” Shiro said back, and the tension eased from Keith’s shoulders, “Alrighty then, if you need anything just send me a text. Remember, the stadium at three, see ya!”

“Yes, sir,” Keith answered with a nod, closing the door when Shiro finally left. He leaned against the door and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes with a long and tired groan.

 _Come on_ , Keith, he thought to himself, _You promised you’d do this. Stop being a coward._

That was the thing, though. Keith Kogane was the biggest coward he knew.

In fact, Keith didn’t know how not to be afraid. His whole life had been a game set up by some vengeful god. He was dealt a shit hand and he was god awful at cards. Every new foster home was just another spin of the wheel, and all Keith had to do was wait to see what it landed on. What’ll it be this month, Barry? Overcrowded foster home? Super religious foster parents? Or maybe just maybe it’ll land on the space every kid hoped for: The kind loving home looking for someone to add to their family. Every kid but Keith of course. Keith stopped hoping for that space on the wheel years ago.

Hope only lead to disappointment and Keith was tired of being disappointed. It was easier not to get hopeful at all. It was easier to just wait it out. All he needed was to wait until he turned eighteen and he would be free to be on his own.

That’s when the Shiroganes took him in and made his life a lot harder.

They were kind, and they fed him properly, and they treated him like a member of their family. Shiro taught him how to play exy the right way. He caught Keith tossing the exy ball around the backyard one day and urged him to join the high school team with him. They stoked the dying embers of hope that Keith didn’t even know he had left, and Keith was fucking terrified.

He wanted to leave. Every kindness sent a wild panic through his bones, he was constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop, and always, always, stomping out that stubborn fluttery feeling in his gut. The wheel had landed on that impossible small space, and Keith couldn’t believe it.

It was still hard for Keith to accept that any of this was real.

But it was, and he didn’t want to screw it up.

But that’s what Keith did best, he messed everything up.

“Keith? Buddy?” Lance’s voice cut through his thoughts.

It was Keith’s turn to jump. He jerked his hands down from his eyes and his head popped up to Lance’s concerned face.

“You doin’ alright over there?”

“Yeah,” Keith answered back quickly, his voice gruff and embarrassed.

Lance raised an eyebrow at that, “Oookay,” he drawled, leaning his hip against the doorframe of their bedroom and giving Keith a once over. Keith gritted his teeth, irritated and already itching for a fight, or a run, or both. “Did Shiro leave to get the rest of your stuff?”

“Uh,” that one actually surprised him a little, “No, I only had that one suitcase.”

“What?” Lance gasped, “Wait, seriously? How?”

Keith repressed the urge to roll his eyes, and shrugged instead. He walked into the lounge and sat on the couch, hoping that Lance would get the hint that he wasn’t in the best mood for small talk.

“No seriously,” Lance said, “How’d you do that? I could barely fit half of my shit into eight bags. Where did you pack your shoes?”

This is why Keith had a strict ‘stop hoping’ policy.

“I’m wearing them,” Keith said, turning his face just in time to see the horrified look on Lance’s face when the other striker looked down at his running sneakers.

“You’re wearing them,” Lance repeated like he was trying to understand the words he just heard. Keith was getting really annoyed. “You only have one pair of shoes?”

Keith’s hackles raised and he glared. It wasn’t the question really, it was just the horrified tone of Lance’s voice that Keith immediately recognized as that sort of tone that has pity quickly nipping at its heels. Keith didn’t need pity, especially not from this kid. “This and my exy sneakers,” Keith said, “That’s all I need.”

Lance snorted like Keith had told a hilarious joke, but when Keith didn’t laugh he blinked, the smirk clean off his face. “Oh wow, you’re serious,” he said. The way he said it made Keith’s blood burn hot at the bottom of his spine. “Well, uh I guess that’s true,” Lance said, scratching at the back of his head, “Anyway, you hungry? Hunk and I were gonna go get some food before practice, wanna come?”

“No,” Keith answered immediately, his tone did nothing to hide how annoyed he was. Keith knew Lance was just being polite but he couldn’t help it. Getting interrupted earlier had left him hot and on edge, and then Lance seeing him like that and asking him questions had him itching to hit something. “I’m going for a run,” he said, turning on his heel and determinedly not looking in Lance’s direction as he walked out of the dorm, slamming the door behind him.

So much for starting off on a good foot.

*

Keith got to the stadium early, because going back to his dorm and face Lance and Hunk right now was one of the last things he wanted to do. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way he had been so close to confessing to Shiro earlier. Every time he remembered the weight of the words on his tongue from earlier, he wanted to break into another sprint, but running wasn’t enough. He needed to throw something, hear the force of it hit the wall or the floor or something… so he went to the stadium. Luckily it wasn’t hard to find, and even luckier that the doors weren’t locked. Keith had skipped out on looking at the locker room and went straight to looking for a spare stick he could play with and a bucket of balls. The second he found them he was on the court.

He stretched his arms and trying to get used to the weight of the stick. He had opted for a heavier stick when he ordered his stick for the team—for more power in his in passes—but this practice one would do for now. He swung the stick a few times, adjusting his grip until the swing made a satisfying noise in his ears. Keith grabbed the bucket and started doing some of the normal drills he was used to back in high school. He bounced the balls off of the walls of the court, even using the ceiling of the court to pass the ball back and forth to himself. It was an easy way to melt away all of the thoughts in his mind. When he was thinking about where he would aim his ball next, and where he would have to be to catch it, he couldn’t think of anything else, and that’s exactly what he wanted.

Keith didn’t know how much time had passed when he heard doors to the stadium open, a muffled bang from outside of the court. Keith turned to see who was coming and saw Shiro who was laughing at something—someone. He was too distracted to look at the court and see him. A smaller sandy haired guy stood at Shiro’s side, smiling and rolling his eyes. Keith tried to put a name to his face but he doubted that this small skinny guy was the backliner, Rax, and he had already met Hunk and Lance so that had to be Matt Holt.

He and Shiro seemed to be… friendly.

Matt nudged Shiro in the side and Shiro laughed harder, though it didn’t look like Matt had said anything that funny. ...Was Shiro blushing?

Keith looked away immediately and ignored the knot building in his throat. Instead, he turned toward the goal and put all of his energy into throwing a ball right between the goal lines. The sound the ball made as is smacked against the goal was almost shattering; it felt good.

“Whoa, Keith, you’re here early,” Shiro’s voice said, his voice now clear behind him.

Keith spun on his heel to face him and Matt, standing at the mouth of the court, “Yeah,” Keith said stupidly, “Uh, didn’t want to be late.”

Shiro smiled but turned his attention back to Matt who was elbowing Shiro, “Oh yeah,” Shiro said, and this time Keith knew he wasn’t imagining the blush on his cheeks, “Keith, this is Matt Holt, Matt, this is Keith.”

Matt smiled and extended his hand, Keith reached out and shook it, grip tight, “Nice to finally meet you Keith, Shiro little will never shut up about you.”

“Oh?” He did his best not to light up at that, especially when Shiro’s face went impossibly redder.

Matt grinned, “Yeah, I swear he acts more like a proud dad than an older brother, he’s always showing me your highlights and god the bragging never stops.”

Keith’s heart sunk but he laughed anyway, still a little happy that Shiro bragged about him at all.

“As if you’re any better,” Shiro complained.

“Yeah well Katie is good enough to play three different positions on the team, so it’s easy. No offense, Keith.”

Keith barely heard him over the rush of blood in his ears, the words ‘proud dad’ ringing over and over in his head like a gong. He really just wanted to get on with practice, the best way to quiet his mind was by just playing. Though… it didn’t seem like that was going to be possible.

“Good thing we found you,” Shiro said, “We’re having a pow wow in the lounge before practice,” He gestured over his shoulder, “You can leave the balls, we’ll need them later.”

Keith nodded and followed behind Shiro and Matt as they lead him to the lounge between the two locker rooms. Keith found himself listening to Matt tell Shiro all about these new stretches he should be doing for his arm and warning him about the ways he should and shouldn’t be using it. Shiro seemed to notice his interest and turned his head a little toward Keith, “Remember that amazing physical therapy program I used to tell you all about?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s how I met Matt. He’s the genius who helped me get a stick back in my hands,” Shiro said, smiling down at Matt with a fond look in his eyes that was completely foreign to Keith. His chest felt heavy.

Matt’s cheeks reddened and he adjusted his glasses, “It was only a matter of changing your medications and giving you the right sorts of exercises, I’m surprised your other doctor didn’t come up with it.”

“That’s because you’re a miracle worker, Holt!”

Keith tuned them out the second they got past the doors to the lounge. The room was pretty big. Lavender benches stretched in the middle of the room, and the white walls sported old banners of past championships and trophies and old aging pictures of the Lions. His new teammates sat around on the benches chattering among themselves. Allura, Hunk, and Lance were the only ones he knew. Once Allura saw they had arrived she stood up with a bright elegant smile.

“There you are!” Allura greeted them. “Now that we’re all here, Coran?”

An older redheaded man with an impressive looking mustache stood up clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. When everyone had finally quieted down, Coran opened his arms wide with a huge smile, “Hello Lions! As most of you know, my name is Coran and I have the honor of being the coach of this brilliant team. This year will prove to be a difficult one since we are the smallest team in the circuit, but fear not! Allura and I have created an amazing practice schedule that will whip you guys into shape in no time!”

Some of the other players didn’t look too happy about that, but Keith was thrilled. He needed to get better at his game if he wanted to go pro someday, and he’d never get better if his team didn’t even make it past preliminary games.

Allura spoke up next, “I will not lie to you, it will be quite brutal, but it will be worth it in the end when we win that trophy.” Everyone seemed to agree with that. “My name is Allura, I am your captain and assistant coach. Since today is our first day of being a team, we’re going to go around the room introducing ourselves. Say your name, your position and something that you enjoy. You know my name is Allura but I play as a goalie and I like astronomy. Now you go.”

She pointed to Lance and he grinned. He stood up tall and waved to everyone in the room like he had been waiting for Allura to pick on him, “The name’s Lance,” he said, puffing his chest out. “I’m a striker, and I like long walks on the beach and moonlit strolls… ladies,” Lance said with a wink in Allura’s direction. She looked as unimpressed as Keith felt.

He learned that Hunk liked tinkering with cars (which was cool because Keith liked that too) and cooking. The person who looked just like Matt was named was Pidge and they were a tech geek as well as a goalie, a striker, and a dealer. The strong looking girl with the dark skin and a pretty voice’s name was Shay, she was another backliner and liked geology. Rax was Shay’s brother and yet another backliner. Keith wasn’t sure if he’d end up liking him or hating him.

When it was his turn he came up all he said was, “Keith, I’m a striker, and I like exy.”

Shiro shook his head and called his answer a cop-out, but Keith wasn’t trying to get off easy. Exy really was the only thing he really liked, so he just shrugged it off. Next, it was Shiro and Matt’s turn but Keith stopped paying attention. He knew what he needed to know about them. Instead, he turned his attention to the huge table on the far side of the room with all their equipment on it. He could see all of their protective gear and the stack of lavender and white jerseys, but his eyes immediately honed in on the rack of their sticks. From that distance, he couldn’t pick out which one was supposed to be his, and he wished they would just get to handing out all of the stuff so they could get to practice. He needed to adjust to the weight of his new stick… he didn’t need to hear any more about any of this team stuff.

Finally, they got down to it and Allura walked around handing out all of their jerseys, and their equipment. Keith looked down at the number eleven on his jersey and grinned. A hand clapped him on the shoulder and he looked up to see Shiro smiling down at him, “Figured you’d want to keep your number so I asked Allura for a favor.”

“Thanks,” Keith said back, his fingers tightening around the jersey in his hands. Eleven was the first and only number he’d ever worn on his back, and for someone like Keith who didn’t get to call a lot of things _his_ , the number was important. He knew that getting to keep his number was rare if not impossible but he had hoped that he could get it… so seeing the number under his name on the back of his jersey felt a lot like coming home.

“My father used to have a tradition where he’d have every one of his players decorate their sticks on the first day of practice,” Allura said from across the room. Keith looked up to see everyone crowding around the table looking at the array of different colored grip tapes, but he didn’t move. “There are enough colors for everyone, but no one can pick the same one.”

Keith still didn’t move. He didn’t care what color he got, he’d just pick the last one. He rocked his new stick in his hands and tried to get used to it when someone yelled his name.

“Keith! Heads up!”

He looked up just in time to catch whatever was flying toward his face with his net. He locked eyes with Lance who looked thoroughly impressed with his catch and glared. Keith reached into his net to pull out whatever Lance had chucked at his face and found a roll of red tape. His eyebrows quirked up and he flicked his gaze back to Lance who was still watching him.

Lance laughed and waved his roll of blue tape, “Red for Red, blue for me, perfect rival colors don’t you think?”

Keith rolled his eyes but started wrapping the red tape around his stick anyway.

“Come on,” Lance said, “Red vs Blue? Anyone?”

They didn’t do much practicing that first day.

They had a small skirmish that honestly wasn’t much of a skirmish at all, due to lack of players, but every time Keith touched the ball Lance was right there, to get in his way. For every goal Keith got on Allura, Lance matched with one on Pidge. The skirmish quickly turned into a game of red vs blue, even without Keith meaning for it to. It was aggravating as hell, but Keith would be lying if he said he didn’t have a little bit of fun when the skirmish was called and Keith’s team won.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith needs to learn that there are a lot of ways to relieve stress that don't include smashing things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter some stuff moves forward, and the slow burn starts to heat up a little...

Classes at Altea University didn’t start until another week, so all they did was practice. Keith couldn’t help the way he evaluated each one of his teammates. They were decent for a bunch of no namers, with the right amount of practice Keith could see them being a playable team, not that it really mattered, as long as Keith could score, they would win. 

Lance was—annoyingly—decent at using the plexiglass to pass, Hunk, Shay, and Rax definitely had the makings to be great backliners, Pidge was small but they was fast and they had predicting her opponent’s shot down almost to a science, and Allura had sharp instincts and clearly years of practice. 

Her father, Alfor, had once been one of the best exy players in the league and after that, he had led the Altean Lions to years of National trophies. Keith would be surprised if Allura didn’t play this well. Her and Shiro were absolutely headed for the pros. The only person who wasn’t participating in practice was Matt. The senior sat on the bench outside of the court looking down at a book in his hands and writing furiously, day in and day out that was all he did. Keith hadn’t seen him actually step onto the court to play even for a second. Keith didn’t understand. Matt certainly didn’t look the type to be so good that he was above practicing with them, so… why was he sitting out? Was he injured? Was he here just to see Shiro?

He was starting to regret zoning out when they were introducing themselves… he had no idea what position Matt played… 

A ball whizzed past his helmet and smacked into the plexiglass next to his head, successfully ripping him from his thoughts.

“Hey, Red!” Lance yelled, the ball bouncing back directly into his net. Keith whipped his head around to snarl at Lance, irritation spiking up his spine after the initial shock. Lance cradled his stick in his hand, rocking the ball in his net with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. “We’re in the middle of practice, you know, stop spacing.”

“You could have hurt me, dumbass!” Keith yelled, taking a threatening step toward Lance.

“Oh please,” Lance said with a roll of his eyes, “Don’t insult me, I don’t miss my mark, I wouldn’t have hit you. That’s why they call me the sharpshooter.”

“No one calls you that.”

“Well, yeah, not yet but watch, it’ll catch on eventually,” Lance shrugged, tossing Keith the ball. Keith caught it on instinct, his glare still trained on Lance. “We have to partner up for a drill, Hunk betrayed me for Shay and while you were dozing off everyone got paired up, so it’s me and you, bud.”

“Don’t call me that,” Keith said, throwing the ball back to Lance a little harder than necessary.

The ball hit home in Lance’s net so hard that his arms jerked back and his brows furrowed together, “What’s up with you?” Lance snapped, throwing the ball back as hard as Keith sent it over to him.

The question mixed with the ugly bubbling in his gut and the way that Lance dug himself under Keith’s skin, was a recipe for disaster. He took another step forward, Lance took a step back— _ smart _ —and Keith launched a well-aimed and deadly ball right at Lance. He reached out to catch it but the ball hit his stick so hard that Lance couldn’t keep his grip and his stick went clattering to the ground. The sound was deeply satisfying and Keith knew he couldn’t keep the smirk off his face, “Right now? It’s you.” Keith said, and Lance’s face twisted in anger.

Lance snatched up his stick and scooped up the ball with a hard smack of his net. “You’re a real dick,” he cocked his arm back to throw it at Keith but Keith wasn’t going to give him the chance. 

He launched forward and smacked Lance’s stick hard. He gritted his teeth against the way his bones vibrated with the force of the hit, and he watched Lance lose his grip again. Keith’s lips pulled into a smirk and the dark look Lance gave him only made the fire in Keith’s blood hotter. A fight had been building up between the two of them since the first day they met at the dorm and Lance finally looked like he was ready to give it to him…

They were so caught up in each other that neither of them realized how quiet the court had gotten. The two of them stood tense, poised to attack when a hand grabbed Keith by the back of his collar and a loud slam of an exy stick against plexiglass startled them both.

“Boys,” Allura hissed, stomping toward them. Lance straightened immediately and Keith turned his head to see Shiro with his hand still fisted in the back of Keith’s shirt and a stern look on his face. A flash of shame and anger stung at his pride and Keith shook Shiro off. Shiro let go but the look didn’t go away. “I don’t know if you boys know this, but exy is a team sport, and if you two plan on touching the court this season, you will have to learn to work together.”

Lance threw his hands in the air with a loud frustrated noise, “He’s the one who started it!”

Keith laughed hard and unamused, “You threw a ball at my face!”

“Yeah, to get your attention! You were too busy glaring daggers at Matt to give a damn about the rest of us.”

He could practically feel the heat of Shiro’s stare from behind him, and a scorching hot shame ran down his spine. Lance’s words were like a flame to gasoline and something in Keith exploded. Keith threw his stick to the ground and launched himself forward toward Lance. “Keith,” Shiro growled and the hand was at the back of his collar again, yanking Keith backward. He choked on the force but his eyes were still set on Lance, who was already raising his arms to defend himself.

Allura stepped between them, eyes furious. “Enough,” she said, her voice tight. It actually made Keith startle just a bit. She whipped her gaze between Lance and him, pointing to both of them when she said, “You two have a month before our season starts to become the best of friends. I don’t care if you two have to spend every waking moment of the day with each other, in fact,” she said, looking positively smug, “That’s exactly what you will do. Any and all free time you two have are to be spent with one another, if I so much as hear that you have gone to the bathroom without the other one present I promise you, you will not touch the exy court for the rest of the season.”

Lance is the first to react, “What?! Not to be dramatic, Allura, but I would rather die.”

Keith gritted his teeth, “Second that.”

Allura grinned, perfectly pleased with herself, “See? You two are already agreeing with each other. Now, since you two obviously have the energy to fight with one another, do laps until the end of practice and get off my court.”

Keith and Lance spent the rest of practice doing just that, and by the end of practice, they were too tired to even look in each other’s direction.

*

Apparently, despite Lance’s complaints, he was taking Allura’s orders seriously because when Keith got out of the showers Lance was waiting with a towel around his neck and huge headphones settled on his ears near Keith’s locker. He didn’t acknowledge Keith until Keith was right in front of him. Lance looked up, face blank and lips parted for a second before he pressed them back into a thin line and looked away from him. He pulled his headphones down around his neck and sighed, “Okay,” Lance started, not looking at Keith as he pulled a shirt over his head. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs and sighed, “This sucks, we both know it sucks, but it doesn’t look like we have a choice unless you want to risk getting benched.” 

His eyes flicked over to Keith’s face and looked like he was waiting for an answer so Keith sighed, “Obviously not.”

Lance looked away again with a nod, “So we have to hang out, and at least pretend that we get along, and maybe Allura will let us off the hook. Okay?”

Keith nodded, “Yeah,” his voice was tight and there was still that irritation itching at his skin that a hot shower hadn’t managed to take care of. “Pretend to like each other, got it.” He slammed his locker shut and slung his bag over his shoulder, and looked to Lance, now waiting on him.

Lance gave him a tired look and dragged his hands over his face with another groan, “This is going to be impossible. What did I do to deserve this?”

Instead of answering Keith just pushed his hands into his pockets and lead them back to their dorm, even though he was currently wondering the same thing. He wanted to open his mouth and say something but his legs were burning and his bones ached, he barely had the energy to push his legs forward, let alone fight with Lance. Luckily it seemed like Lance was just as exhausted. They spent the rest of the walk back to the dorm in silence. 

Keith was honestly surprised. 

Lance didn’t seem the type of person who could be quiet. Keith had only known him for a week or so but the striker was always talking. Seriously, Keith couldn’t remember the last time he saw Lance and he wasn’t talking. It was as if the striker ran off an endless energy source, always yapping and most of the time, Keith wanted to pop out his batteries. The only sound that came from Lance tonight was the low beat leaking from his head phones. If it wasn’t for the bone-tired ache radiating from every inch of Keith’s body, he would have been pretty unsettled. 

Keith didn’t have the energy to do anything other than fall into bed when they finally got to their room. When his head hit the pillow and his eyes closed he didn’t think of anything, not Lance’s silence, not Allura’s threats, not even the way Shiro smiled at Matt.

*

The next morning was an early start and Keith wanted to die. Allura and Coran’s training schedule was just as brutal as they warned. It consisted of three long practices a day, early morning practice, break for lunch, midday practice, break for dinner and late practice. Rinse and repeat for the next day. Allura said that they needed to get all of the practice they could before classes started and they only had time for two shorter practices a day. Keith usually didn’t mind it, but after a night of a particularly punishing practice, all Keith wanted to do was sleep more.

Someone’s alarm was going off and Keith didn’t have the ability to force himself to sleep through it, unlike his roommates who were still snoring. Sometimes he really hated being a light sleeper.

“Hunk,” Keith groaned, “Your phone is going off… Hunk.”

It was no use, though, Hunk kept snoring. Keith pushed himself up from the bed and walked over to the phone blaring on Hunk’s desk to shut off the alarm. The clock read five-thirty and Keith groaned, pushing the heels of his palms into his eyes before he shoved at Hunk’s shoulder, “Hunk, get up. Practice.”

“Huh?! What? Wh—” Hunk jumped, his eyes snapping awake, “Oh, Keith, yeah ok.” Hunk sat up slowly, scratching at the back of his head before getting up, “S’your turn to wake up Lance.”

Keith bit back a groan and turned toward Lance’s bed, already bracing himself for the fight to come. Lance was an absolute diva when it came to waking up, and Keith didn’t know if he’d be able to do it without killing him. 

_ Patience yields focus. _

“Lance,” Keith warned, hoping that the force of his glare was enough to wake Lance. It wasn’t. Lance kept snoozing, blue sleep mask firm in place. “Lance,” Keith growled, giving Lance a shove. 

“Nnn, five more minutes.”

Keith’s fingers curled into fists and he closed his eyes to count to ten. When he successfully counted to ten twice he reached up and pulled Lance’s sleep mask off of his eyes and let them slap back onto his face, “Now, Lance.”

Lance bolted upright and ripped off his mask with a glare, rubbing the now red spot on his nose, “What the hell, Keith?!”

Keith glared right back, shoving his sneakers onto his feet and grabbing his gym bag, “We have morning practice, and if I show up to that stadium without you Allura will bench us both. So get up and stop slowing me down.”

Lance sat there glaring for a long drawn out moment before groaning and climbing down from his bed, “Stop slowing me down,” Lance mimicked, his lips twisted and his voice high pitched, “I’m Keith and I think I’m so cool blah blah blah.”

The retort was so childish that Keith actually wanted to laugh, he bit the inside of his cheek instead and finished tying his shoe as Lance slammed the bathroom door behind him. Keith checked the clock again, they would have plenty of time to get to the stadium and shoot some goals before practice if they left soon. 

Keith waited and watched as the minutes ticked by and his patience stretched thinner and thinner. He glared at the door to the bathroom and wondered what the fuck was taking Lance so long. All he had to do was brush his teeth and get dressed. He was going to make them late.

Hunk poked his head into the room, “Hey, want breakfast?” Keith flinched at the intrusion and looked over to Hunk who was just standing there looking guilty for spooking him, “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he laughed lightly, but kept talking, “You’re usually out of the room by the time Lance and I leave, and I usually make breakfast for us… but since you’re here I just wanted to know if you wanted any.”

Keith blinked, the irritation he felt seconds ago ebbing away. Hunk was a good guy, always kind and thoughtful. Keith usually skipped out on breakfast for the sake of more practice time, but… since he was already probably going to be late…

“Uh… sure, what did you make?”

Hunk’s face lit up, “Poached eggs on spinach and toast! It’s small so we won’t get sick, and it’s pretty tasty if I do say so myself.”

Keith smiled, unable to help himself, it did smell really good, and nodded, “Okay.”

“Whoa! Red, you look so much better without that ugly glare on your face, you should definitely smile more often,” Lance said for next to them and Keith’s smile disappeared instantly, turning instead to glare at him again. Lance looked… fresh. If that made any sense. “Aw you ruined it,” he pouted.

“What were you doing in there for so long?” Keith demanded, following Lance into the kitchen. “We’re going to be late.”

“Thanks to a certain mullet, I was too tired to put on my face mask last night, so I had to do it this morning,” he hopped into one of the chairs at the small table in the middle of their kitchen and gestured to his face like it would explaining everything, “You don’t get this pretty without some work, Red.”

God, Keith wanted to punch him right in his pretty face.

Keith sat down across from Lance and Hunk plopped a plate of food in front of the both of them before he had the chance to open his mouth to say anything.

“Less talking, more eating,” Hunk said, sitting down and pointing to their plates.

Keith didn’t need to be told twice, and neither did Lance. Both of them turned their attention to the pieces of toast on their plates and scarfed them down so quickly that it was almost like they were racing. Which they weren’t. But if they were… Keith finished first.

Lance threw his head back and moaned when he was done with his plate, “Hunk wow, you never cease to amaze me. Best breakfast ever, I mean wow seriously, my mom doesn’t even make breakfast this good.”

Hunk laughed, “I’m sure your mom would die if she heard that.”

“And that’s why it’s gonna be our little secret,” Lance grinned, holding out his pinky to the both of them. When Keith just stared at the gesture, Lance sighed, “That goes for you too Keith, pinky promise.”

The gesture was friendly, Keith knew that, but Keith didn’t get it. Obviously, he wasn’t going to tell Lance’s mother that he thought Hunk cooked better breakfast than she did. He would probably never even get the chance to. Instead of reaching out, Keith stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He grabbed his bag and “Hurry up, we’re going to be late” 

*

They were just a little late to practice, but it didn’t seem to matter. Maybe it was because Keith always got there early and practiced on his own until the team came to meet him, so he didn’t notice but showing up a little late seemed to a common occurrence for the lions. By the time they were all suited up and ready to hit the court Matt and Shiro were still not there. 

“They’re going over plays in the lounge,” Lance said from next to him.

Keith jumped and pushed down the hot embarrassment that burned at the back of his neck. How did Lance always catch him off guard like this? He turned toward Lance with eyes set to kill and Lance just grinned, pushing off of the locker next to Keith with a roll of his eyes.

“You’re always watching them, with that scary glare on your face, like this,” his eyebrows furrowed together and his mouth bunched up into a forced frown, in an attempt to mimic Keith. “And dude, it’s definitely freaking everybody out. So what is it? Do you just hate Matt for no reason, or do you really hate sharing your brother? Because I gotta say, dude, you’re kinda too old for that. I mean my youngest sister grew out of that when she was—”

“Shut up,” Keith hissed, that familiar heat stirring at the pit of his stomach, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really? Are you sure about that? Because this is like the fourth time I’ve caught you spacing out because of them,” Lance said back, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Look,” Keith started, his voice low so no one else would hear, “I just don’t get it. Even if he’s just a bench warmer, he could be practicing with us. What if we need him one day?”

Lance looked at him like he had suddenly sprouted three heads, then he started to laugh.

“What?” Keith demanded in a hot whisper, looking around to see if there was anyone close enough to hear.

“Matt isn’t here to play exy,” Lance laughed, “The dude’s a genius with a playbook in his hand but he’s not actually here to play, he’s here because Shiro begged him to join the team so we could have enough players to qualify as an official team. How don’t you know this?”

Keith blinked. Oh. Well, that made sense.

Lance gave Keith a tired look and Keith bristled, “Seriously? Oh Keith,” he shook his head in disapproval and patted Keith’s shoulder. Keith might have imagined the condescending tone in Lance’s voice but his anger never did allow his mind to think clearly. He slapped Lance’s hand away with a glare and Lance rolled his eyes.

“Now that you know, just lay off the death glares,” Lance said, walking past him and toward the doors to the lounge, “Now come on, we’re going to be late.”

Keith didn’t imagine Lance’s terrible impression of him.

*

Admittedly, Keith was a little less distracted by Matt during practice from then on, though he couldn’t help staring when Shiro spent his water breaks at Matt’s side, smiling and laughing at jokes Keith couldn’t hear. Lance always made sure to comment on it, which never ceased to strike a chord in Keith. Keith heard comments like, “You’ve got stabby eyes again,” or “Red! You’re looking a little green today!” every single time he looked in their direction and the only thing that kept him from throttling Lance—other than the threat of being benched—was the fact that Lance made sure to be out of immediate throttling distance when he said it.

Keith was used to tuning people out. Off of the court, Keith kept to himself most of the time. Most things were easy to ignore when you didn’t care about them, and Keith could count the things he cared about on one hand. It was good for dealing with bullies back in school because insults were just funny and predictable when they came from people he wouldn’t remember in a month or two. Keith would just ignore them and if they swung first, he would protect himself. It was that easy.

The same strategy didn’t seem to work well when it came to Lance. No matter how insignificant Lance was, the striker had a way of digging under his skin, and the smug little prick knew it. It didn’t help that Keith had to spend every waking moment with him. Keith felt dangerously like a pot of water ready to boil over every day, and Lance’s stupid comments were doing nothing for his crumbling resolve. 

Every word from Lance’s mouth felt like a needle in the back of his neck because they were all true. He was jealous, so jealous in fact, that it spread like a poison in his veins. Every water break that Shiro spent at Matt’s side had Keith tense and his heart aching in his chest. Every laugh from Shiro’s mouth, every extended touch on Matt’s shoulder, every fond smile shared between the two of them had Keith feeling sour and sick. The worst part was that even Keith could see how it was affecting his game. His passes were too powerful and would go wild instead of finding it’s mark, he checked people before they had possession of the ball, he was too focused on aiming at the goal that he didn’t look around to protect himself backliners, and tonight he got kicked off the court for turning on Shay when she checked him into the wall.

He couldn’t get the look Shiro gave him out of his head even by the time it was time to wrap up late night practice and Keith wanted to hit something. When he got into the locker room, Lance was nowhere to be found, and Keith was silently grateful. His shoulders were tense and his teeth were clenched so tight that his head was starting to hurt, and the last person in the world he wanted to see was Lance. He headed straight for the shower stalls and yanked the curtain behind him hard before ripping at his clothes and turning the water all of the ways up. The hot spray felt good against his aching joints, but it did nothing for the tortuous replay in his mind.

Every time he closed his eyes he saw Shiro bent over Matt’s shoulder, he saw Shiro’s disapproving eyes as he walked off of the court, he felt Lance’s elbow in his ribs and heard his little snicker when he said, “Staring again, Red.”.

He slammed his hand into the tile and pushed his forehead hard against the cold tile, hot water dripping into his eyes and up his nose. He let the sour burn of water in his nose clear his mind and took a deep shuddering breath, and slowly wrapped an arm around his middle as if that alone would hold him together. Coming to Altea was a mistake. He should have never followed Shiro here. He should have taken that contract with The Galrans and forgotten about Shiro altogether. What was he thinking when he came here? If he wanted to go pro he had a way better chance on The Galrans than he would ever have on The Lions. He was an idiot. A selfish stupid hoping idiot for thinking he had a chance…

He didn’t realize how long he had been in the shower until someone knocked on the wall of his stall and Keith went still.

“You rubbing one out in there, buddy?” Lance’s voice cut through the hiss of water. “I mean I get it, practice was real tense tonight and you need a little stress relief but dude it’s late and I can’t leave without you, so hurry up, ok?”

Keith scrubbed a hand over his face, waiting for Lance’s footsteps to fade away before he shut the water off and toweled himself dry. He took a deep breath and walked toward his locker where he knew Lance would be waiting. Keith really wasn’t in the mood for Lance’s shit, but he tensed for a fight anyway. 

Surprisingly… Lance didn’t give him one. Lance sat at his locker with his headphones blaring around his neck, and his phone in his hand. He didn’t even look up at Keith when he walked up. Keith got dressed in an eerie silence that reminded him a lot of the first night that Lance and him got sentenced to this punishment, except this time Keith was the only one bone tired from running laps. So why the silence? After a practice like tonight, Lance would usually say something rude or comment about how shitty he played. So why wasn’t he saying anything… His silence was weird and somehow even more irritating than his constant talking.

“What, no comment about practice today?” Keith asked, his voice sharp. The startled jump of Lance’s shoulders and his wide shocked stare did nothing other than add fuel to the fire sparking under Keith’s skin. “No jokes about how the green eyed monster growing inside of me finally took over? Come on, Lance,” The words just came tumbling out of him, and he couldn’t pull them back. He pushed at Lance’s shoulder when the other striker still didn’t respond. “I know you’re just waiting to say it, so say it.”

“Dude,” Lance said back, his face unreadable and blank, “Look…”

“No, go ahead,” Keith growled, grabbing Lance by the front of his shirt and yanking him up from his seat, “tell me about how my crush on Shiro is fucking up my game. Go on, tell me.”

Lance’s eyebrows shot up high and the soft look in his eyes made that urge to break something flare up inside of him. His fist trembled at his side, begging to be sent right into Lance’s face and wipe that look right off of it. Lance still didn’t say a word. He just kept staring at Keith with a knowing look that made Keith feel so raw and exposed that he threw Lance back into the lockers with a loud crash. He turned away from Lance and starting pulling back on his gear. He needed his stick, he needed a ball and he needed the court. If he stood here with Lance anymore he was going to do something he would regret.

“So you finally snapped, huh?” Lance said with a light laugh, “You really should see someone about that, seriously dude…”

Keith glared at Lance, slipping his arms right back into his guards.

“And what are you doing? You’re not actually going back to practice right now are you?”

“Just go back, Allura is long gone by now and Hunk isn’t going to tell on you, anyways Allura can’t actually bench us, it’s an empty threat, so just go,” Keith said, his voice low as he slipped his sneakers back onto his feet and grabbed his gloves.

Lance looked pissed now, his mouth wide open and his brows scrunching together, “You can’t be serious!”

Keith didn’t answer, just turned on his heel and walked out of the locker room with his helmet and his stick in hand. He didn’t care about the punishment, or the threat, right now all he cared about was getting on that court and throwing a ball at the same spot on the wall until his arms gave out. He picked up a bucket of balls and kicked the door to the court open before he heard the stadium doors slam open behind him accompanied by the rush of footsteps.

“I’ve said this before, but you are such a dick,” Lance said from behind Keith, his voice loud and angry.

That familiar fire ignited in him again and he turned quickly toward Lance, ready to catch the punch and throw one of his own. He stopped short when he saw that Lance had changed back into his practice gear, and had his helmet and stick in his arms.

Lance still had that pissed off look on his face, “You better not bitch at me tomorrow when I refuse to get up, you got that?”

Keith blinked the fire stuttering for a moment. Was Lance actually going to practice with him?

“Why?” Keith demanded, bristling at the idea that Lance would do anything nice for him. Lance, the boy who teased him endlessly, the boy who always had something to add or something negative to say was here and going to help him practice after Keith had just thrown him into a locker and he wanted to know why.

“What do you mean, ‘why’?” Lance asked, pulling on his helmet with a grin, “Because we’re pretending to like each other remember?”

Keith threw himself forward and grabbed Lance by the face mask with a snarl, “Nobody is watching us now, you don’t have to pretend. So whatever this is, you can keep it,” he pushed Lance away hard and Lance stumbled backward, almost falling on his ass.

He pulled off his helmet and glared at Keith, none of that softness from earlier anywhere on his face. “What is wrong with you?!” Lance screamed, throwing his hands up in the air and stepping toward Keith, “You’re always telling me to shut up, but when I finally do, you yell at me to talk, so which is it, Keith? What do you want from me?”

Keith didn’t know how to answer that, but he took a step toward Lance, getting in his face, “I don’t want anything from you.”

Lance raised an eyebrow, “Really? You don’t want me to tell you about how you played like shit today? How it was honestly hard to watch you completely self-destruct before the season even starts?”

Keith bared his teeth but Lance kept talking.

“Because that’s all true. I don’t know what the hell is up with you, but you need to get your act together if you actually want to win any games this season. You know Shiro spent the rest of practice apologizing for that little outburst of yours?”

The words hit Keith like a physical blow, knocking the wind out of him. He could feel his heart beating in his throat and the roar of blood in his ears was deafening.

Keith ripped off his helmet. “You want to know what’s up with me?” Keith began to say, his voice shaking. He looked at Lance who was still glaring and said, “You’re right about me. I am jealous.” As the confession left his lips, a weight lifted off of his ribs and he kept talking, the words unable to stop tumbling out, just like before, “Every time I see Shiro and Matt together I just… I can’t stand it. So you’re right. You happy?”

Lance’s anger slipped away and melted back into that soft look that had alarms going off in Keith’s mind.

“Keith… I…”

Keith didn’t want to hear it. He reached forward without thinking and smashed his lips to Lance’s. Lance went still under his kiss but only for a second, when the other striker seemed to understand what Keith was doing he came back to life. The kiss was anything but soft. It was a mash of teeth and desperation, and Keith let himself get lost in it. He didn’t know what he was doing, he didn’t want to think about it, or anything, he just wanted to drown in the feeling of Lance’s hands against the bottom of his spine and his tongue against his teeth.

Lance didn’t protest when Keith pushed him against the plexiglass, and Keith didn’t protest when Lance shoved a knee between his thighs to give Keith something to grind on. Making out with all of their bulky gear was hard but they didn’t stop. Lance was hard against him, and Keith couldn’t ignore the own ache in his own shorts. 

“Keith…” Lance gasped when Keith’s fingers dipped into the elastic of his shorts. Keith paused and looked up at Lance who looked as wrecked as Keith felt, his hair was plastered to his forehead, and his eyelids were drooping closed. This was going fast, too fast, spinning out of control, but the thrill of knowing that Lance—cocky, loudmouth, arrogant Lance, was this hard because of him was overwhelming. He wanted to make Lance cum. He wanted Lance to make  _ him _ cum.

“Tell me no, or shut up,” Keith growled, his hand still paused. Lance arched his hips and reached for Keith’s waistband as an answer. He reached into Keith’s shorts as Keith wrapped his fingers around Lance’s cock, and they both made a strangled noise. Lance’s head fell to Keith’s shoulder and Keith let himself rest his forehead to Lance’s as the both of them started to move their hands. Every stroke blew Keith’s mind to pieces, and it wasn’t long before the both of them were clutching onto each other and groaning. Keith was determined not to cum first and almost bit through his lip waiting for Lance to finally finish with a cry. He came not a second later but didn’t make a noise above a low grunt.

The two of them stood in that position, foreheads pressed to the other’s shoulder for awhile, the only sound filling the court being their gasps. Keith felt boneless and his mind felt blissfully blank, he didn’t want to start thinking about the fact that Lance’s cum was dripping down his fingers.

It was Lance who broke away first. He leaned back and rested his head against the plexiglass behind him, pulling up his shorts and laughing lightly, “Got to say, Red, every time I think I get you, you go and prove me wrong.” 

Keith backed away and adjusted his own shorts. Panic was starting to set in. What had he just done?  “This,” he said, gesturing between them, his eyes wild, “This was…”

“Stress relief, no biggie,” Lance said with such an easy grin that the panic in Keith’s chest eased almost immediately, “Can we clean this up and go home now? Or do you really need to practice?”

“Uh yeah,” Keith said, his mind stuttering on the word ‘home’. He wiped his hands off on his pants with a small shiver. He would do laundry tomorrow. “Yeah let’s go”

*

Classes started at Altea University that following week so the team had cut practices down to two times a day. The team was ecstatic over the news, but Keith wasn’t so thrilled. Less exy time meant more time with his own thoughts. Classes were only so distracting. He spent the time taking notes and writing down the things he needed to work on in the court, but sometimes his thoughts slipped back to Shiro, and on his worst days he found himself thinking about the way Lance’s hands felt against his skin. He hated those days… especially because him and Lance were still being forced to hang out with one another every day. 

Every time Keith got out of class, Lance was there waiting. He was usually leaning against a wall with a small circle of friends around him. The group was different almost every day, and every day Keith had to listen to a new list of names that Keith never ended up remembering anyways. Keith would never be used to it. The people Lance introduced him to weren’t really annoying or anything like that but he wanted to be able to walk out of class without having to see Lance there smiling, surrounded by people and looking like some college promotional image. 

The end of the punishment was so close. Their first game of the season was only a week or two away, and he could go back to waking up early and going for his morning runs, he wouldn’t have to see Lance’s stupid face at his locker every night after practice, everything would be back to normal and Keith would finally be free.

Class was the only time that Keith didn’t have to be at Lance’s side, which was better than usual. When he got out of class for the day he changed into practice clothes while Lance and Hunk talked. They tried to loop him into the conversation from time to time but Keith was usually watching some exy game on his phone half listening. Keith hadn’t actually spent a moment alone with Lance since the night at the court. Don’t get him wrong, he didn’t  _ want _ to be alone with Lance, but it was strange to see Hunk waiting with Lance at his locker after practice to walk back to the dorms together. Keith was starting to think that Lance was avoiding being alone with him… and that was fine.

 

Practice was going as usual. They did their drills, ran some laps and practiced their shooting with Allura in the goal. She was ruthless. She sent balls ricocheting against the court walls and had everyone flinching. Keith was glad he didn’t have to face her on the court. 

When they finally took their water break, all of them were out of breath and tired. Keith sat in his normal spot, far from the others, high in the stadium seats. He liked the view he got from up there. He could see the whole boxed in court and imagined what he would look like from up here in the middle of a game, number eleven on his back, exy racket in his hand, goal lighting up red… the crowd roaring…

He wanted that. Wanted it so bad he could taste it. 

“One more week until our first game,” Lance said, ripping him from his thoughts, per usual. He plopped down next to Keith and pushed a cold water bottle to his cheek. Keith flinched at the cold and smacked it away with a glare but took it from Lance with a small nod. Keith took a long sip, sweat beading down his neck, and glanced back over at Lance who was fiddling with the cap of his own bottle. Keith raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to speak but Lance was quicker, “Look… about the other night…” he started, and Keith’s blood turned to ice.

Keith’s muscles tensed to run, and his eyes darted around to make sure no one was close enough to hear. What the hell did he think he was doing talking about that at practice? He was hoping that they would never bring it up, that Lance would just pretend it never happened, but this was Lance, he could never leave well enough alone. 

“I just wanted to say sorry I guess,” Lance said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Keith blinked, “What?”

“I mean, not about…” It was Lance’s turn to look around and check for prying ears, “ _ that. _ I meant for the stuff I said,” he leaned closer to Keith’s ear, “the Shiro stuff.”

Keith’s heart dropped into his stomach, and he swallowed down the hot knot in his throat. His eyes snapped up to Lance’s and found his eyes soft, just like that night. 

And just like that night, Keith didn’t know what to make of it. A smirk was easy to interpret, Keith knew how to handle those (with a glare and a scoff) but he had no idea what to do with this concerned worried look on Lance’s face. 

“I was just joking around, really, I didn’t know you actually... felt that way.”

Keith felt nauseous. Hearing Lance talk about the one thing he had never ever told anyone was making his stomach turn and a sense of urgency to spread over his body. Lance was whispering but Keith felt as if he was screaming the words for the whole team to hear. 

“I know it’s none of my business but…”

“You’re right, it isn’t,” Keith bit out, his voice strained against the rising panic. He locked eyes with Lance, his gaze dark and serious, and grabbed him by the wrist, “You can’t tell anyone.”

“I won't…” Lance said, his eyes wide. He turned his hand in Keith’s grip and wrapped his fingers around Keith’s wrist and tugged him closer, “Do I really seem like that much of an asshole? I wouldn’t do that, but.. Shiro’s your—”

“ _ Foster _ brother,” Keith growled and tried to yank his wrist free. Lance was surprisingly stronger than Keith thought, he held on tighter.

“Still—”

“No,” Keith said, cutting Lance off for the umpteenth time, “No, I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Then who are you gonna talk to about it?”

_ No one.  _

Keith’s glare darkened and he yanked again to no avail. Lance was giving him that look again, the one that made him feel a lot like a cornered animal. A feral rage washed through him telling him to attack and run, bite off his own goddamn arm if he had to, just  _ get out _ of there.

“Let go,” Keith snarled a thinly veiled threat in his tone.

Lance held his gaze for a moment longer before letting go with a sigh. He lifted up his hands in surrender, “Fine, fine, I get it. Filing ‘crush on Shiro’ into the ‘off topic’ folder. Happy?”

Keith had his wrist in his hand, trying to rub away the lingering feeling of Lance’s fingers, but he felt his shoulders relax. He looked over at Lance and stood up, grabbing his gear and turned back toward the court.

“Keith,” Lance said, his voice just above a whisper. It was enough to make Keith stop and turn back toward him, “I know I rag on you a lot, and again, sorry about that... but I was actually hoping we could be friends or something... someday.” Lance’s face went a muddy red and he didn’t take his eyes off of his water bottle. “So whatever, if you ever wanna talk about it with someone, I’m all ears. That’s it.”

A warm feeling flooded his chest and he looked away. Friends? With Lance? That sounded like something that would never ever happen.

“C’mon, water break’s over.” 

He walked away to the sound of Lance groaning, and if the corners of his mouth turned upward, at least no one saw it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That locker scene was like the first thing I wrote for this fic haha 
> 
> Keith and Lance.... well they're gonna take a bit to understand their feelings.....
> 
> Next chapter is the Lion's first game!
> 
> Leave some comments and kudos for me!


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